


"I'm being a bother"

by aljohnson



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Guidance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 19:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Turner has to deliver the news of the confirmation of Sister Bernadette's diagnosis to the occupants of Nonnatus House.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I'm being a bother"

“Ah, Doctor Turner” said Sister Julienne, opening the door of Nonnatus House wider, “come in, come in”, she smiled, stepping back to allow him access.

He stepped blankly over the doorstep, removing his hat as he did so. He stopped in the hallway, as if unsure of what to do, what to say, how to behave. He’s considered just telephoning, but felt like this was news he should deliver in person.

Sister Julienne saw him floundering, and waved him gently towards the sitting room. She indicated that he should take a seat on the sofa, “I’ll be right back”, she smiled.

Patrick set his hat next to him on the sofa, placing his bag on the floor. Sister Julienne returned, smiling brightly as she settled herself into an armchair. “I've asked Mrs B to make us a pot of tea”.

“I'm sorry, I'm being a bother”

“No bother, Doctor. Now, I presume you are here to tell me about Sister Bernadette?” Sister Julienne went straight to the point. There was a pause as she looked at Doctor Turner, considering. The man looked close to tears. She feared the worst.

“How bad is it?”

“Active Disease. The full X-Ray showed the lesions in more detail. They rushed the blood tests through, confirmed what I had already suspected. How could I not have noticed?”

“None of us did. She showed no obvious signs.”

There was a knock against the door frame, and Mrs B entered with a tray, loaded up with a teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl, cups, saucers and two plates with large slices of Victoria Sponge piled on them. Sister Julienne smiled at her as she balanced the tray on the low table, an unspoken language of communication having developed between them over the years. Mrs B turned and walked away, leaving the Doctor and the Sister alone once more.

“There was nothing at all?”

“I know she has been troubled recently. But she led me to believe that she was not feeling unwell.”

“Oh.” Patrick considered what Sister Julienne was saying. He knew all the facts, the prognosis, knew that the Triple Treatment could be very effective, but none of that helped him now.

Sister Julienne continued to observe the Doctor as she poured the tea, handing the cup to him. He took the somewhat delicate china and absent-mindedly added three sugars, stirring slowly as he tried to concentrate.

“Are you quite all right Doctor? I take it you managed to get our Sister safely to the Sanatorium?”

“Yes, yes. She seemed, well, stoic. Maybe ‘resigned’ is the better word?” stated Patrick, the world around him turning to a blur.

_He recalled standing in the driveway of St Anne’s, just an hour ago, handing Sister Bernadette her suitcase and lightly brushing her finger as he did so. It had been entirely accidental, but he yearned for that contact again. As he had stood and watched her walk slowly towards the main door of the imposing and sprawling buildings he had willed her to turn round and look at him, to be able to take one last glimpse at her face. There had been one point when she had paused, and firmed up her hold on her suitcase, but she had not turned round. Even after she had disappeared through the main door he had remained rooted to the spot, wistfully hoping that she would burst back out through the door, and rush over to him so he could embrace her, hold her tight and tell her everything would be all right. After far too long, Patrick had wearily sat back in his car, and headed back to Poplar._

“Doctor?” asked Sister Julienne, breaking him out of his stupor.

“Sorry, Sister. I had quite drifted away there.”

“Yes. Are you quite well yourself Doctor? You seem very distracted?”

“It’s Timothy” the words lurched from Patrick’s mouth, “Sister Bernadette has been very, kind to him”

Sister Julienne smiled, “She is good with children”

“Yes. But just, I don’t know how to tell him about this, to break the news. How will he cope if anything happens to her?” Patrick was choking back tears, “I don’t know if he’d be able to cope. He took the loss of his mother badly; I think if he lost someone else he cares about now, that it might be too much for him to deal with”.

Sister Julienne got the distinct feeling that Patrick might be using Timothy as a front. She had been concerned last night, when the Doctor had asked to speak with Sister Bernadette privately, and the tension in the air as he had examined her had been palpable, an unspoken, something, which Sister Julienne had not been able to pinpoint, hanging in the air. She looked at the Doctor now, trying desperately to retain his composure – he was far too upset, even if the worst possible outcome was known to them all. The lack of other symptoms suggested that the treatment would be effective, and the Sisters were already praying for Sister Bernadette’s swift recovery. It was surely not the Lord’s plan to take her from them at such a young age? She considered her response.

“Perhaps, the best course of action is to be honest with the boy; to tell him that Sister Bernadette is ill, but that the prognosis, although serious, is positive. Explain that the lack of other symptoms, other than, as she reported, a little ‘breathlessness’ is indicative that although the disease may be Active, it has not, as far as we know, progressed to an irredeemable stage.” She paused, trying to allow the Doctor to hide behind the excuse of his son.

“I will have to speak with him, explain all of that. I suppose there is hope….?”

“There is always hope, Doctor. And perhaps young Timothy could write to her? Tell her his news? I am sure she would write back, if she feels able?”

“Yes” said Patrick, cheered by this idea. He could write to Sister Bernadette and explain more fully how he felt. If the worst happened she would at least know how he felt.

“And we are praying for her. Perhaps if Timothy is aware of that, he will know that our Sister is not facing this time alone, she is supported, and loved, by us all” said Julienne, emphasising the word ‘all’.

“She is. That will console Timothy. Thank you Sister.” Patrick drained his tea. “I have taken too much of your time, I am sorry.”

“Nonsense Doctor. Our door is always open. Please come by any-time you like. You or Timothy.”

Patrick smiled weakly at Julienne. If his mind had been more capable of focus he would have noticed the way she was perusing him, drawing her own conclusions.

“And you should stay for your cake”

“Oh, thank you Sister, but maybe another time. It does look delicious though” he smiled once more, and stood up, collecting his bag and picking up his hat. “You undoubtedly have a busy evening ahead, I shall go. And talk to Timothy” he added.

He walked slowly down the hallway, letting himself out of the door, as Sister Julienne observed him from the doorway of the sitting room. She wondered now whether the cause of Sister Bernadette’s torment was in any way related to Doctor Turner.

Since Sister Bernadette had attempted to talk with her about her troubles, she had kept a watchful eye on her younger Sister. She had noticed the excitement in her voice when she had come back from appearing before the board at County Hall, and she had noticed, earlier than that, how quiet her Sister had been the evening following the Summer Fete. At the time she had written these incidents off, but she wondered now whether they held more significance.

She determined to continue to pray for Bernadette; for the younger woman to recover from TB, if that was the Lord’s wish, and for her Sister to be able to tell her what ailed her. She had an inkling now of what that ailment was, but determined to allow Bernadette the time and space to approach her. She sipped the last of her tea, topping up her cup, and eagerly consuming the slice of Victoria Sponge as she considered how best to confirm to her Sisters and the Nurses that Sister Bernadette’s diagnosis was as had been feared.


End file.
